


Unfixable

by InvisbleDragon



Series: 2017 Calendar Challenge [15]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, But its broken, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt Tony, Steve broke it, Tony Angst, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 08:09:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9375905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvisbleDragon/pseuds/InvisbleDragon
Summary: Tony gets back from Siberia, but he's broken. So what happens when he's needed...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, this veered WAY off the original mark. But maybe? I can work with this?

    It had started with a phone call. Most aptly it's ring sounded like the death bell knelling. That could have, however also been because Tony Stark was a genius and he built technology for a living, so he’d taken apart the phone and used the SIM card in an entirely new and secure phone, one he’d built once he’d gotten used to the insult Steve had sent him to heap on top of his pile of injuries. Rhodey wasn’t the only one who couldn’t walk anymore, and he’d been determined to fix Rhodey first. Rhodey deserved more than being stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of his life.

    So as soon as he’d been rescued from the bunker in Siberia, and thank fuck that’d come when he’d come. It seems like his old code for a rescue after 1 hour suit downtime had been downloaded into Vision when J.A.R.V.I.S. had died.

    So, he’d gone to the hospital when he couldn’t stand, and he’d had the doctors fawn over him, he’d had his brain get scanned with all the different tests available, and then he’d made a call to an old friend who owed him a favor.

    Of course after he’d gotten the wheelchair, on loan only, Pepper insisted on doing a press conference. He insisted on being first in the room behind a large table to hide his new accessory until after all questions were answered and that way he could hide from the media.

    He didn’t often run from the press, except of course when it involved obvious injuries, like his reactor, of course he was going to hide that. But this… he couldn’t walk, he couldn’t stand, his spine was unfixable. He was unfixable, and broken, always broken.

    He could fix Rhodey though, Rhodey deserved more than a life stuck on the ground, deserved more than being unable to fly. Rhodey was born to fly, and he’d be miserable without the ability to do so.

    So Tony had the press conference and it had been an absolute disaster. Every single reporter in the state of New York was there, and a few from out of state as well. Definitely a few from D.C. and there was even one from out of the country.

    Apparently, once again; Tony Stark became the hottest thing in and out of America. He needed to leave, he needed out. And apparently his ‘out’ was to be dragged back into hell. It had been Sam on the phone. He needed Tony’s help.

    No one needed Tony, they always just wanted something. Sam wanted Tony to fix his wings. Tony needed away from all the media.

    So he rang up T’Challa.

    Sixteen hours later, Tony was departing from his personal jet onto the concrete platform in Wakanda to be greeted by the smiling face of King T’Challa.

    He rolled forward to grasp T’Challa’s hand and gave it a firm shake. Even as T'Challa began to speak, Tony tuned him out hoping that he wouldn’t be confronted by Steve while in Wakanda. Not that he planned on being there long, but he was here without Rhodey, without the suit, without Vision. He was completely and utterly alone. He was here to do a job, so he was going to fix it and leave.

    “Sounds great!” Tony smiled, eyes tense, before T’Challa nodded and motioned to his guards that they would be leaving via the car. It was a strange moment as T’Challa realized that his car was not suitable for Tony’s borrowed wheelchair, and so danced awkwardly around the question of how Tony would get into the car. Meanwhile Tony hated himself for not thinking about that T’Challa might not know and felt sick that he would have to show weakness in front of the king.

    They glanced at each other, before Tony sighed, and his waves of hostility vanished. “ I know you’re trying to help, but I’m so used to being independent that being in this wheelchair feels almost like swimming in cement. If you would please be so kind as to help me get in you car, I would much appreciate it.” By the end of the sentence, Tony was gritting his teeth, feeling like the worthless and needy child his father had always told him he was.

    It was a quiet car ride through the Wakandan capital as they made their way to the palace, where Sam and the others were being held.

    Once they made it to the gleaming white marble building, Tony and T’Challa unfolded themselves out of the car, and made their way into the building in via a servants entrance, through one of the walls to make it to an oft unused corner of the palace where there was already a set of tools lying on a table for Tony to use. T’Challa stood in the doorway and watched as Tony used the wheelchair to zoom around the room taking in the space around the tables and the perfect height.

    Tony then found the perfect place to wait for Sam while he was ushered to the room so Tony could fix the wings. It was behind a table that had drawers up both sides on either side where he could place his chair, and the front of the table was a solid sheet of oak with engraving. He swallowed thickly and nodded to T’Challa when he asked if Tony was ready.

    As the minutes ticked by Tony swore to himself to not answer any questions and to speak as little as he could to Sam. When Sam appeared in the doorway, Tony took a deep bolstering breath, fortified by T’Challa’s presence behind him.

    “You wanted me to look at the wings. Come here. Let me fix it.”

    That was all he spoke for the next three hours as T’Challa kept Sam entertained, while he tinkered with the wings. When he finally finished with the repairs, he shoved the panel back shut, screwed it tight, and then passed it over to T’Challa over the desk to hand to Sam. Sam had just slipped it back onto his back, when there was a crash in the hallway, and Steve’s voice echoed down to the door.

    “Sam? Where are you? And why aren’t I allowed down here?”

    Tony shot a panicked glance at T’Challa, who appeared resigned and angry at the interruption.

“You promised.” Tony said, voice low in fear and tight with anger, although it did warble slightly.

**Author's Note:**

> You can come find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/invisbledragon).


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